Kurosaki King of Flash
by DarkWarr
Summary: Before Ichigo or Isshin, there was a wanderer in Soul Society who shaped the lives of many. The King of Flash, Kurosaki. The 1st chapter's an introduction, the real fun begins in the 2nd chapter
1. Introduction, My Thoughts

I was watching "Jumper" the other day and wondered how the flash-step came to exist in Bleach. However, after contemplating for months, I decided that it would be far too complex to go into such a story.

After watching the latest Anime battle between Grimmjow and Ichigo, I thought, "What if someone were a true master of flash-step, and nothing more? How powerful would he be?"

Then I wondered, "What if Aizen's obsession with power began when one man showed him how far the limits could be pushed?"

And since so many found Kurosaki Ichigo so be so fascinating, I decided Ichigo must've had a really power ancestor… How about… A warrior from Soul Society named Kurosaki? Just Kurosaki, since I suck at doing my own names…

This is the first story I'm gonna base on a completely new character, so join up and let me know how I fare. Give me comments, suggestions, and the most creative criticism you can come up with. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Now, introductions aside, let's begin with a brawl...


	2. A Helping Hand

It was an inn in the outskirts of Soul Society, run down and well versed with travelers, thugs, bandits and such. The inn-keeper, old and wizened as he was, was battle-hardened and carried in his sleeve a slender knife at all times, keeping it with him even as he slept or bathed. But when the traveler arrived, he was neither sleeping nor bathing, but cleaning up after a brawl had occurred in the dining hall. The traveler had a cloak wrapped about him, so worn and tattered it looked like nothing more than a sack cloth. The old man, despite his hard appearance and attitude, had a soft heart for this particular man, who radiated a genuine and honest spirit. He pulled up a chair for him and walked off, ignoring the man as he thanked him. The old man stood behind the counter, cleaning his mugs and plates, keeping an eye on the newcomer. Finally, he decided to give the man a cup of tea, complementary of the house, and he could feel the smile in the man's thanks as he sipped on the hot tea.

The cloak had a hood, and it was up, hiding most of the features of the stranger. Coupled with his silence, just sitting on the chair and resting, the old man forgot all about his presence as a rowdy group of thugs barged into the inn, calling out for sake and pulling up chairs to a giant round table left in the center of the dining hall. The old man felt for his knife, making sure it was ready to be drawn at any moment, and brought the men their drinks. They threw their money at the old man as he walked off, and he picked every coin up, hiding a smile as he realized they were throwing more than necessary. They kept on ordering sake, calling out crude words out at the old man, who ignored the insults and kept delivering, more wary now as the sake began to hit the men, causing drunkenness amongst them all.

0…0…0...0...0...0...0

"Hurry up, you old fool!" one of the men bellowed as the old man hurried to deliver the sake, but he tripped and the entire jug went crashing onto the ground, spilling the precious liquid all over the floor. The man who had called rose to his feet unsteadily and was hollering coarse words at the old man, saying something about wasted sake, and the old man knew without a doubt that he was about to get hurt. As his hand slipped up his sleeve for his knife to defend himself, a voice rang out from a table at the far end.

"Enough, he has done no wrong," the drunkard turned to face the direction of the voice, only to see the cloaked stranger sipping gently on his tea. The old man marveled that one man could nurse a cup of tea for so long, for he had given it to him since he came into the inn. The drunkard hollered at the stranger, and by now his drunken companions began to stir, wanting to partake in the commotion. The stranger showed no concern even as the large group rose to their feet and staggered towards him.

"Calm yourselves," the stranger spoke, his voice even and calm, "There's no need for this," One man reached the stranger and reached down, lifting the stranger up, his feet no longer touching the ground. The man shook the stranger hard, causing the hood of the cloak to fall back, revealing his face.

But the stranger was facing the thug, the old man could not see his face, but he wondered how a man could have hair that was so shockingly yellow. Short and spiked, the man did not make a sound even as the thugs about him began to taunt him. One thug finally lost his patience and threw a punch at the man, who disappeared from the thug's grip and left the drunkard flailing uselessly at air. The man reappeared on the counter, where the old man had crawled to for safety. The stranger did not look at the old man and disappeared again, just as a gust of wind began to kick up in the room.

"You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves," the voice of the stranger came again, cool and collected, and from all around the inn, "Preying on the weak for your own leisure. Perhaps you ought to be taught a lesson," And the old man gasped at the scene that happened before him. Each thug seemed to be pelted from all sides by invisible blows, their bodies bending and moving in odd directions as blows from nowhere seemed to rain down on them. The wind picked up speed, and a table flew at one of the thugs, who raised his fist and shattered the wooden furniture.

"Impressive, you shall be the first to sleep," The voice spoke as the shattered pieces of wood stabbed themselves into the thug's body, sealing off his reiatsu and causing him to collapse. The other thugs realized their situation and began to run towards the door, past the old man who was struggling to stand in the currents of wind. The stranger reappeared behind the group of retreating thugs, and his form seemed to multiply, each one giving each thug a hard kick out the door. The door frame was not wide enough, so several thugs crashed through the walls on the sides of the door out into the cold night.

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"Are you alright?" the stranger spoke to the old man again, not looking at him, and moving towards the wounded thug on the floor.

"I'm fine," the old man mumbled, rising to his feet and looking around his inn. Oddly enough, despite the strong wind, the only noticeable damage in the room was the broken table, while all the furniture was neatly in its' place. The old man turned his attention to the stranger, who removed all the wooden spikes from the thug's body.

"He'll be fine when he wakes up," the stranger said as he rose, "Just lay him on a bed, I did no harm to him, and he should be fine in the morning," The stranger moved towards the door, his yellow hair slightly dusty from the battle. With his right hand he dusted his hair, and with his left he left several gold coins on the counter. "This is for the table, the door, the walls, and the drink. I'm sorry to have had bothered you,"

"Wait," the old man called out, "You could spend the night here if you want. It's the least I could do to repay you for saving me,"

The stranger chuckled, "That would be nice, but I'm afraid I might attract more trouble here if I were to stay. It would be better for you if I left," The old man did not ask again, the resolve in the man's voice stopping him from doing so.

"Wait!" the old man called out finally, just as the stranger reached the broken door, "Then at least tell me this: What is your name?"

0...0...0...0...0...0...0

The stranger turned to face the old man, his handsome face illuminated by the candle light in the room. His eyes were brown, sharp and focused, the features on his battle-hardened face spoke of many years of hardship and pain. Yet, within those eyes the old man saw the compassion in the man's soul, and realized that this man had a good heart, and a warrior's spirit.

"My name," the stranger chuckled, brushing the hair out of his face, "Kurosaki," The stranger turned and left, walking into the blackness of the night.


End file.
